


Tales Only We Know

by LunarExo



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Therion voice: my dumb ass got injured and all i got for it was a cute boyfriend :/
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 15:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18346835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarExo/pseuds/LunarExo
Summary: At some point, Therion had begun to indulge Cyrus, too caught up in the earnest curiosity in his eyes to stay guarded. It became routine, and then it became more than that.





	Tales Only We Know

“Come with me,” Cyrus whispered, his fingers curling into the loose fabric of Therion’s poncho. Therion hesitated on instinct, glancing around the steadily quieting tavern. But nobody was paying them any mind, and after a long moment he wrapped his own hand around Cyrus’ wrist, giving a curt nod.

How it’d come to this was entirely beyond Therion’s scope of comprehension. Of course, he knew _how_ in the literal sense—he’d be hard pressed to forget the feeling of a dagger buried into his shoulder, the uncomfortable crowding as Alfyn and Ophilia fussed over the wound. And he remembered Cyrus, voice hesitant, almost meek as he suggested himself as the one to monitor over Therion’s healing. A look had passed between them, Cyrus’ eyes filled with _something,_ something fiercely loyal, and Therion had turned away with a frustrated click of his tongue, feeling distinctly overwhelmed. 

That had been over a fortnight ago, and his shoulder only tinged faintly when he stretched out the muscles, a bold new scar proudly formed where the skin had been split.

Courteous as always, Cyrus stood aside to let Therion enter his inn room first, toeing off his shoes as he went. He fell easily onto the bed, bouncing once before he pulled his poncho off, tossing it to the floor in a heap, and then did the same with his undershirt. Cyrus looked dejectedly at the sight, but made little effort to remedy the issue, instead climbing onto the bed beside Therion, his gaze growing soft.

“How’s your shoulder? Has it hurt today?” He shook his head, and Cyrus eyed him warily for a moment before he smiled. “I’m glad.” 

He brought Therion’s hands to his lips, kissing his fingers delicately. The tension eased from Therion’s shoulders, gaze pointedly turning away from where he knew Cyrus was watching him. Looking at him like this was _hard_ , when his eyes held so much unrestrained affection. It was so intense he’d grown afraid of it bleeding into their time with their companions, a stray look from Cyrus fit to send Therion into conniptions catching Primrose’s knowing eyes, her teasing laughter drawing their companion’s attention, their growing bond laid out bare for all to see.

Just thinking about it made him feel a little nauseous, stomach curling with anxiety. It wasn’t as if he was _embarrassed_ of Cyrus or ashamed of how their relationship had grown. He just wanted this to be theirs, to steal away those precious gazes and lock them safe behind closed doors. To keep them both safe from anything that might try to rip this tender, budding thing from him.

Cyrus let Therion’s arm rest, and the sound of a jar opening roused Therion from his thoughts. Wordlessly, he turned away from Cyrus, letting the scholar settle behind him. A finger traced along what he knew was a sharp, singular line, intersecting his most violent scar. “You said you’d tell me of this one tonight?”

“I did,” Therion confirmed, wincing when Cyrus placed the cold salve onto his skin. “I saved it for last because it’s boring though, and—”

“You thought we’d have stopped this by now?” He could hear the smile in Cyrus’ voice, fingers diligently rubbing the medicine into Therion’s flesh.

“I had no intentions of getting attached.” 

Cyrus’ hands stilled. His palm was flat to Therion’s skin, heartbeat thrumming just barely as he asked, voice slow, patient. “Did you get attached?”

“…I got this scar in Victors Hollow, three years ago,” he started, and heard Cyrus laugh quietly behind him, his forehead pressing to his clean shoulder. Pointedly ignoring him, Therion continued on, “it’s from a tiger, actually. I stumbled upon a travelling circus and got caught pilfering through their costumes for something shiny to sell. All fake jewels, of course, but the tiger was real. Ringleader sicced him on me when I got caught, fucking asshole. Who sends a whole beast after a petty thief?”

“Well,” he heard Cyrus lay down, head hitting the pillow. Therion followed suit, lying on his side to face him. Wordlessly, his hands came to stroke along Cyrus’ face, jostled when he resumed talking, “I’d be loath to call you a petty thief, even then! From what I know of your history, you were quite the accomplished thief from the very start.”

Therion snorted, even as he snuggled closer. “He didn’t know that. Anyway, I didn’t want to stab the damn tiger—”

“No wonder Linde likes you.” 

“ _Quiet_. I didn’t want to stab the tiger, so when it got me across the back I fell to the ground and played dead. I threw my arms to the side and everything, there was no way it looked convincing. But I heard the ringmaster round up everyone up and run away pretty quick. Probably didn’t want to get caught so close to a corpse, thief or no. I’d be mad about it normally—letting a man die like that isn’t _right_ —but it was useful in the moment.”

Cyrus had an arm around his waist, pulling him close enough that their nose’s brushed, his voice barely above a rumbling whisper. “And the cut?”

Therion’s voice softened to match, his eyes flitting down to admire the soft curve of Cyrus’ lips, deep red in the soft firelight. “Shallow, but sharp. I remember being more worried about how dirty the tiger’s claws were than anything, but I didn’t die.” He let his fingers trace over Cyrus’ arm, brushing along the dark hairs idly. “Getting injured as a criminal’s a pretty easy death sentence, but it isn’t the best way to go out. I always wanted to go out with a bang, bring down ten or twenty odd men with me.”

The soft noise of distress Cyrus responded with made him chuckle, pressing a kiss to his lips to appease him. Cyrus frowned into it, brow furrowed and an argument ripe on his lips, but Therion’s fingers stroked gently at the soft spot beneath his ear and the words died as rapidly as they’d grown.

Therion pulled away first, hovering close, their legs tangling together as they drew closer. As they kissed the candle lighting the room snuffed itself out, and only the moonlight remained to illuminate Cyrus’ face. Back to the window, Therion’s playful grin was shrouded in shadow as he asked, “what of you? How do you want to go out? I bet you’ll die reading a book, and your damned soul won’t cross over until you read the last page.”

He expected Cyrus to be offended, to rise to the bait and chide Therion for his jabbing remarks. But he only looked pensive, his gaze on the strand of Therion’s bangs twirling around his finger. “I won’t,” he finally conceded, turning his attention back to Therion proper. “I’ll look for you as a wandering soul, wherever you may be, and pray to Aelfric, Alephan, Aeber—any god who will hear me—that you’ll have me.” 

The room fell silent. Cyrus made no effort to rescind his words, and Therion found it suddenly hard to breathe, the air thick as tar.

“You barely know me,” Therion slowly replied, his voice wavering. He cursed himself silently for how _affected_ it sounded in his own ears, how Cyrus’ expression remained unclear even bathed in milky moonlight.

Cyrus shook his head, gripping Therion’s hand in his own, and he realised for all his willingness to shove them into this moment, the scholar’s hand was trembling just slightly. “I’ve come to know you better in one season than the colleagues I’ve had for a decade.”

Therion opened his mouth, ready to argue. But he found himself hesitating, looking away from where Cyrus stared so patiently at him to their joined hands instead. They’d spent days now locking themselves away from their companions, whispers and shared secrets passed between them. It felt almost like he’d fallen into a trap, to look back and think on the sheer weight of information Cyrus had on him. 

He squeezed Cyrus’ hand. “I’m not that easily domesticated.”

“Are you not?” Cyrus squeezed in return, just as firm, and when Therion looked up he was smiling again, that trembling gone, as if he’d somehow parsed something satisfactory from Therion’s words. Knowing him, knowing how well he _understood_ Therion, he probably had. “I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth without question, of course, but I assumed you’d be happy with a chance to settle down somewhere more permanently. Or is a Nomadic life really your goal?”

“You assume too much,” Therion replied, tucking his face into the curve of Cyrus’ neck. He felt warm, but it wasn’t an unpleasant heat. “But I’d be glad to have you at my side at the end. Perhaps if you vouch for our souls we’ll have a better chance. Especially if our judge is a woman.”

“And what, exactly, do you mean by that?” 

Therion snickered, “nothing.” He reached down for the thick duvet after, pulling it over them both. “Tell me about your colleagues you don’t care about.” 

“No,” Cyrus replied, and shifted his hand to Therion’s hip, “I’ve been wanting to ask about this scar for a while now.”

“Is that why you keep fondling my hip?”

“Ah…” Cyrus’ bashful laugh was all the answer Therion needed to know that was definitely not the case. He felt himself smiling, warmth spreading outwards from his chest. He wasn’t domesticated, perhaps, but he knew he was comfortable. Safe.

Cyrus pressed his lips to the side of his head, lingering. Therion pressed in closer, and began to speak again.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [neenee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenNeehola/pseuds/QueenNeehola) for actually literally giving me a grammar lesson so i dont look like a complete fool posting this fic <3 ur too kind to me and my cytheri ramblings
> 
> also thanks to the [cytheri discord](https://discord.gg/vudxtNs) who i wrote this for initially y'all are very good
> 
> EDIT: NOW WITH [FANART???](https://twitter.com/toastynb/status/1113937124221431809) OMG?????????? im wanna cry


End file.
